Acceptance
by chellybelly615
Summary: Nature is a strange thing. Accepting. Sure, it's brutal, but not as brutal as humanity. You don't see a wolf murdering an entire family to punish another. Isn't a species' purpose to survive and not to destroy itself? As Tabby watched neighbors slaughter each other over ideals and beliefs, she began to doubt humanity was a part of nature at all. (Connor/OC) See inside for rating.
1. Chapter 1

**I don't own Assassin's Creed. I only own Tabby.**

Chapter 1

The heavy rainfall that plagued Boston on November 4th, 1773 was enough to prevent anybody from stepping past their thresholds. The beggars had taken refuge under buildings; the thieves in taverns.

The most popular of these taverns was the Green Dragon. The Green Dragon Tavern was territory of the revolutionaries. On that particular night, a number of them were drinking and merrymaking just inside those walls. Looking out a window, one could the see darkened red streaks of British coats marching incessantly. One could not easily see the young girl lying in a puddle of her own blood just yards away from the street.

Tabitha had been fading in and out of consciousness for the past fifteen minutes. She stared at the blood swirling in the rainfall that was soaking in her clothes. She watched as it flowed down the gutter, a river of pink water. It wasn't until an ear-splitting laugh was heard that she was broken out of her reverie. Lifting her head, the girl realized she was across from the Green Dragon.

Suddenly she realized her predicament. It wasn't anything she couldn't handle; she as beat far too much for it to be anything but a minor inconvenience. The one thing she did fear for was this rain. If she stayed out there much longer, it could be detrimental to her health.

Swallowing thickly, the girl pushed herself gingerly to her feet. She had never entered the Green Dragon Tavern before. She always feared the judgement. Now, it seems, she doesn't have a choice if she wants survive the night.

Tabitha pulled her sopping wet cloak closer to herself. Bringing the hood over her head, she limped to the door. Hopefully these sons of liberty were as accepting as she's heard.

The girl pushed the door open, self-consciously avoiding people's glances and heading straight to the counter. Keeping her head down and hoping nobody sees her face, Tabitha dumped her coin purse on the counter. "Please, I'm just looking for a bath and a room for the night," she said, voice low. The Irish woman inspected her.

"Of course, dearie. First door on the right." The woman placed a key into her palm. "Fer this much I can get you somethin' to eat, too." Tabitha nodded.

"That would be lovely." Raising her eyes to meet the woman's, she smiled. "Thank you."

"Don't worry about hiding here. We got nothin' against any o' your kind. Hang your coat up by the fire. We wouldn't want you to catch a cold!" Tabitha was extremely surprised that the woman wasn't beating her with a broom by now.

"Thank you, ma'am. I'll do that after I clean up." The woman smiled warmly.

"I'll send someone up for that. Nice to meet you, miss...?"

"You could just call me Tabitha," she said. "Or Tabby."

"That's alright, Tabby. Have a good night!" Leaning forward, the woman confided, "Come down some time tonight and get somethin' to drink. You got a lot left." The woman pushed the coinpurse back into her hand. Tabby smiled graciously and picked her way up the stairs up the stairs.

She closed the door behind her and panted, biting her tongue. She peeled the coat from her body and searched her bag for clean clothes. She was lucky to find an old pair of clean trousers and a large shirt. Shaking her head, Tabby lifted up her shirt to inspect her bruises. Her skin was still dirty, so it was a bit difficult to judge the severity. She only feared for the blood she had coughed up earlier.

Her head and torso was throbbing, but it wasn't anything she couldn't handle. Tabby knew she would take that lady up on the offer, if only to numb herself before bed.

A knock sounded at her door and Tabby dropped her shirt quickly. She flung it open to see a boy. "Uh, ma'am, yer bath's ready," he told her.

"Right. Just bring it in here." The boy pushed the steaming basin into her room. Tabby quickly tipped him and shooed him out; she needed this.

Tabitha's bath was amazing. She soaked in it for quite a while, allowing the heat to work its magic on her aching ribs and abdomen. It wasn't until she felt the heat dispersing that she began to rapidly scrub her sordid skin.

Tabitha stared at herself in the mirror for a long while. Most inns she stayed at didn't have mirrors. In fact, the room was twice the size of the rooms she typically rented. It was nice.

She ran a comb through her clean hair, ordering it to tame. She tied it at the nook of her neck and let it rest against her left breast. Dressed in clean and dry clothing, Tabby took her still-wet cloak and headed downstairs.

As soon as she opened the door, Tabby was thrust into a land of masculinity. Before, she had been too concerned about her survival to mind her senses. Now, everything came in a rush. The smell of tobacco and firewood, sweat and beer; the music and loud laughter; the swagger of the drunk men.

Tabby realized that though she wasn't the only black person and hopefully not the only native, she was the only woman apart from the owner. It didn't matter much. She wouldn't be harassed; not with her heritage.

No wonder she wanted to share a drink so badly.

Tabby smiled warmly at the lady before making her way over to the fire. She ignored the glares and snide remarks. At some point, one gets used to it.

Hanging her coat in front of it, the girl sat in a seat beside it. Her back was to everybody in the tavern.

Catherine Kerr frowned at the girl. She could relate; the Irish were never treated too kindly, whether they be in England or the colonies. Cleaning a glass, she cocked her head to her cousin Cornelius. "Get her somethin' to drink, will ya? She's had a rough day."

"Why don't you get her something to drink?"

"Fer Christ's sake!" Slamming the glass down, she swore. It seemed that if you wanted something done, you had to do it yourself.

The woman viciously poured a pint for the girl. She considered bringing it over herself, but knew she could not trust these men with an unattended counter. It could turn to anarchy.

She couldn't trust the drink with anybody. After all, she saw her bruises. The poor girl was beaten and bloody whem she came in; she needed somebody her own kind to bring it to her. She couldn't have harassment in her tavern. Looking around, she was against calling the ex-slave on the stairs to her assistance. She didn't feel comfortable ordering them around. Besides, he was too far away. Her eyes landed on the most oddly dressed man in the bar. "Somebody get him for me!" She ordered, making another drink.

The man was brought to the bar. "Yes?" He asked.

"Dearie, I know you're probably busy, but can you do me a favor? You see that girl over there? She's had a rough day. Can you bring this to her?" Catherine thrust the drink in his hand. "Thank you." She didn't wait for a response.

The man's Native American heritage gave him strong features that made him appear much older than he truly was. At only seventeen, he found many people could not guess his age.

The man obeyed Catherine nonetheless, and delivered the drink.

Tabby was staring into the fire, examining the flames. She watched as they flickered and died in the air, their lives so short. It was a beauty indescribable. A birth, a climax, and a death. Every flame was equal. Some were bigger, some brighter. Some blue, some yellow, some red. Yet they all went tbrough the same cycle. Birth, death. Birth, death. None was better than the other. They all worked to create heat. They merged with each other indiscriminately.

Why was everything in nature so balanced, so perfect, so accepting? Why is humanity the one fault?

Tabby was so entranced with her own thoughts that she didn't notice the man appear. When he spoke, she jumped in surprise. "I'm sorry, I did not mean to startle you." Tabby turned to look at him. He was a native. Full or part, she couldn't tell immediately.

"It's alright."

Inspecting his features, she decided he was not full-blooded American. There was European blood in him for sure. She also took the time to inspect his odd outfit. A white hood with a little sewn pattern of an eagle hid his face. He was wearing some kind of white and navy cloak, obviously stemming from colonial influence. He had a sword visible. On his back was a quiver of arrows and a bow was strung around him. A tomahawk rested on his hip, and a pistol on the other. If she had ever seen such an perfect mixture of both cultures, Tabby couldn't say.

"The owner told me to bring this to you," the man said. He handed her the cup.

"Thank you." Tabby swirled the glass, watching the bubbles appear. After a moment of silence, she felt the imposing figure turn. "You're leaving?" She asked, turning to look at him. The man stopped and looked at her.

"I assumed you wanted me to."

The last thing Tabby wanted was him to leave. He was tall and, though much more slender than a brute, muscular. If she was near an intimidating man- especially a native- she had a better chance of not being harassed further. If there was one thing the girl wanted for the night, it was peace. "You don't have to, if you don't want to." Tabby kept her eyes on her glass, fearful of messing this up. She just needed protection for the day. "Pull up a chair."

The man did as she asked. They sat, watching the fire. Tabitha soon realized he was a man of few words and initiated conversation. "What's your name?" She asked.

"Connor," he told her. Almost as an afterthought, he added his last name. "Kenway."

Tabitha nodded before taking a leap of faith. "What's your real name?"

Connor hesitated. "Ratonhnhaké:ton." Tabby smiled widely.

"I'm Tabitha, or Tabby." She sensed Connor staring at her and finished the answer. "That's it. Just Tabitha."

"No _real name_?" Tabby couldn't tell if he was teasing or serious. She chuckled uneasily

"Nah. My mom died giving birth to me, and my dad was caught and taken back to his master. I was taken by a man when I was three. Don't remember my father's name, don't remember my given name. He called me Tabitha."

Tabby stared into the fire. Connor didn't say anything, but she still felt his presence.

"What happened to you?" He asked after a long while. "You're hurt."

Tabby shrugged. "Some people are nice, some just don't understand. Can't win 'em all." Tabitha sighed and held up the cup. "You want this? I don't really drink. Alcohol turns good men into monsters."

"Then I shouldn't want it." Tabby smiled dryly and eyed the beer more. Shrugging, she took a sip and let the alcohol slide down her throat. She downed the entire glass.

"I thought you said you don't drink."

"I don't. It eases the pain. Besides," she said cocking her head back a bit. "The woman's watching, and I can't disappoint."

For the first time since they met, Tabby watched as Connor showed emotion. He was suppressing a smile. "Well, Connor. Or, Ratonhnhaké:ton-"

"Connor's fine."

"-Connor, I think I'm going to go to bed. It was nice meeting you."

"It was nice meeting you as well." Tabby stood up.

"Be safe," she advised, giving him a quick nod before all but sprinting up the stairs.

Tabby needed to sleep off some of those bruises, and she couldn't do that by talking.


	2. Chapter 2

**This here's not much, kind of a filler. It's mainly an introduction of a few more characters prominent in Tabby's life. Once again, I don't own anything Assassin's Creed. If I did, the ending to the third one wouldn't be so messed up. **

Chapter 2

November 13, 1773

Tabitha was bent over a sink, laboring with a pound or so of potatoes. The knife was very sharp; just three days ago, Millie cut herself doing this same task. She has been avoiding the task since, choosing to prepare the pastries instead. Tabby finished peeling the potatoes and began to slice them into disks, as was custom in the household. This way, the middle class family tbey serve can have a choice between mashed or fried. Either way, the potatoes were prepared. "Ya doin' alright over there, Tabs?" Tabby glanced up at her older friend Millie, confused. Millie was a mulatto; the product of her slave mother being raped by her master, she was born into this. It wasn't until she was thirty before a kind family opted to free her. Now, she acted something between Tabby's sister and mother.

"Yeah. Why?" Millie cocked her head towards the clock. Swearing, Tabby washed her hands. "Can you get somebody to finish this off?"

Millie laughed, her white teeth a stark contrast to her dark skin. "'Course. Go!"

Tabby dried her hands and threw the towel on the counter. She ran from the kitchen. "Where ya headed?" Another servant asked as she unintentionally crashed into him. Tabby laughed and helped pick up the laundry he was carrying.

"Sorry Tom," she told the man. "I need to help teach May!" Tom was an older man, in his fifties. He was captured and sold into slavery when he was eleven. Successfully running away at the age of 28, he spent the rest of his days as a free man on a farm. Now, however, he is well past his prime; Tom works in the house of this wealthy family, physically unable to work in the fields. That job is reserved for the six other free black men employed by the Traysons.

"Then go!" Tabby obeyed the man and flew.

She sprinted up the stairs and panted, catching her breath as she approached the door. She quickly knocked, knowing better than to expect repercussions for her tardiness. "Come in!" May called from inside. Tabby entered.

"Good morning, May," she greeted, smiling at the thirteen-year-old. "I'm sorry I'm late."

"Hey Tabby!" With lng honey hair that reached past her elbows and bright blue eyes, May Trayson was the spitting image of her father. Save for her attitude and way of thinking, she was undoubtedly a Trayson. May didn't care what people thought of her, and despised her class. She found herself in the company of the servants more than anyone of her own status. "What's up?"

Tabby smiled. "I'm supposed to help you with your studies."

May yawned, feigning disinterest. "As great as that sounds, my tutors already say I'm excellent. Come on," she said, tugging the girl's hand. "Teach me what you were teaching me earlier. I won't tell my parents."

"I know you won't. We can both get in trouble," Tabby noted. "You sure?"

May shrugged. "Why not?"

Tabby gave in. She was up to a bit of stretching, anyway. "Alright. Let's go."

The teenage girls made their way out of the house. "Tabitha's taking me for a walk," May had explained to her mother, smiling innocently. Her parents accepted this excuse.

They lived in a large two-story house on the outskirts of Boston. It took them less than fifteen minutes to reach the frontier. They didn't delve deeply into the trees; they only ventured far enough for the forest to encompass them, but not far enough for any dangers to threaten them. May eyed the trees with scrutiny as they walked. "This one," she said, resting her hand on a tree with low branches. Smiling, Tabby nodded and approached it. She climbed it effortlessly, helping May up to sit in a fork on the branches. Tabby chose the one just above her.

The girls sat in silence, enjoying the wilderness. Tabby especially loved it. The smell of the trees was relaxing and heartwarming; it reminded her of home. May just loved nature. She found it as an escape from her everyday life. Nothing in nature reminded her of her duties as the youngest daughter of a wealthy merchant. Nothing reminded her of her mother's cruelty to the servants, and her father's absence from their life. Nothing reminded her of her expectancy to marry another upper middle class son, as anyone below was "below her". She especially liked it because Tabby was willing to take her. May had begun to regard Tabitha as her best friend. Since she's the only person she knows near her age who isn't completely incompetent, she enjoyed her company. Tabby, too, loved the girl she served. She treated her fairly, and if it wasn't for the girl, she would be on the streets.

"Will you take me to the wilderness someday?" May asked quietly. Tabby chuckled.

"Where do you think we are?" She asked, bemused. May smiled and rolled her eyes.

"I meant actually into it." The girl paused. Looking at the clouds, she confided, "I want to run away."

Tabby was startled. "Why?" She asked habitually.

"You know why. I think you should leave too. I think everyone should. We could all build a cabin out here, and we can all be free."

"Free?" Tabby asked. "Honey, we're all free."

"I mean- free from my parents. We're not free from them."

"They beat you, don't they?" Tabby asked, althought she knew the answer. All of the servants could hear it, and after a quick headcount, they would realize it wasn't any of them. May sighed and nodded.

"Yeah." She swung her legs, staring at her lap. "I know we can't go. You'll get in more trouble for helping me than I would for doing it."

"'Specially if you drag Tom into this. He had to work for his freedom. They won't let him off as quick as they'd do me."

May sighed. "I'm just romanticizing it. Wishful thinking, you know?" Tabby didn't say anything. "Only a few more years. I'll elope and never see them again." Tabby didn't know what to say.

"Whatever happens," she finally decided. "I'll stay with you."

The girls sat in the tree for a few more hours, deep in thought. Tabby had less to think about than her younger friend; she didn't even consider the beatings she received from her employers a problem. Naturally, she felt a certain point of protectiveness for May, so she didn't like them hurting her. Personally, it was nothing compared to the racial injustices she receives away from home.

"May," Tabby called quietly. "We should head back. It's getting late. Dinner's probably almost ready."

"What's it matter?" May asked, obviously discouraged. "I'll be stuck with people who despise me."

"Oh, stop. You have dinner. I'll be lucky if I have enough to buy a drink after work."

"I thought you were saving up?" Tabby frowned. She was, until yesterday. A thief had snagged her coinpurse, and she was left with only the backup cash she kept hidden in her blouse.

"Never mind that. Let's go." Tabby dropped from the tree and walked around to help her friend down. May graciously accepted her hand.

"I wonder if this is what it feels like," speculated May, "to be a criminal walking the scaffold."

"Have patience, my friend. You're exaggerating."

May quickly said, "I know." Tabby sighed. They began to walk out of the trees that bordered Boston. Tabby smiled and waved at a farmer who was staring at the girls. The man gave her a disgusted look and went on with his plowing. "What was that?" Mary asked. Tabby shrugged.

"He sees a black girl and wonders, 'why am I workin' when she's the one who's bred t' do that?'" May giggled.

"You do a great ignorant voice." Tabby grinned at her friend.

"You're sweet."

The girls arrived home before sundown. "How was your walk?" Marianne Trayson, May's mother, asked.

"Good, mama." May faked her a bright smile.

"Find any potential suitors?" Tabby fought the urge to roll her eyes; the Traysons were trying to get their non-complacent daughter married off for ages.

"No, mama. None. I'm not that interested in marriage right yet, anyway."

"You will be in a year or too," Marianne announced as if to convince herself.

Marianne was the less fair of May's parents. While her husband had been raised in a family without slaves, Marianne's slaves were a source of pride for her family. It had been quite a change to be forced to live in an environment where the servants are paid. She seemed to handle it well, though, acting fair in the presence of her husband or mouthy daughter. Alone, though, she was a demon. Once, Marianne was lecturing May on the inferiority of the blacks, enraged by a mistake made by one of the farmboys. May had been quiet and listened, not willing to be the outlet of her mother's anger. She boiled in rage from her mother's comments for a day, and when she came home and her mother asked if she found anyone yet, she said the most outrageous thing. Tabby still remembers the astonishment and disgust in Marianne's face at her daughter's words. "Yes, mama, I did. I saw him standin' up on the stage gettin' auctioned off by the slaver, and I knew that would be the man I married!" Tabby could recall May being forced to remain home as the hand-shaped bruise on her cheek faded.

Since then, May learned to watch her tongue around her mother.

Tabby parted ways with her friend then, gliding to the kitchen. Millie and Tom were in there, finishing up the stew. "Hope I wasn't too long," she called, washing her hands hurriedly in the sink.

"It was no problem," Millie assured her. "Stew ain't that hard."

"Unless you're cookin' with Mildred," Tom laughed. Millie narrowed her eyes at him, shooting daggers. Tom ignored her threatening gaze. "You been hearing what they're saying in town? About fightin' the British for our freedom?"

"I don't go into town much," Tabby admitted.

Millie gave her a knowing glance. "With all those walks, we assumed you would. And Tom, you know that ain't a fight for us. There ain't nothin' they'll do to help us."

"I don't know," he muttered. "We're already free. I ain't sure there's much more they can do for us."

"Voting rights!" Tabby piped up.

"Girl, those ain't for anyone but plantation owners." Tabby blushed at his truth. "They're tryn'a make this a kingdom of it's own," Tom went on.

"You're not fightin', Tom," Millie reasoned. "Your time for fightin's long gone."

Tom shrugged. "S'pose so." Tabby eyed him warily. She'd have to keep a close eye on him. He's the type that does something before he considers it. That can be trouble for all of them.

Millie exchanged a look with her. She was thinking the same thing.

**Thanks for reading this far! I'm not the type of author that holds chapters for ransom, so I'm not requiring you review. It would be nice if you did, though. It always gives me that extra little boost of confidence :) thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own Assassin's Creed.**

Chapter 3

November 16th, 1773

The sound of a heavy knife hitting the wooden board beneath it rang through the kitchen. "I'm worried," Millie said, "about Tom. He's getting old. If he thinks he's fightin' in whatever he keeps going on about, it ain't gonna work out." Since he first brought it up, Tom keeps mentioning it again- and Millie keeps mentioning her worry for him. "And don't give me that look, either!" She cried, noticing Tabby's pained gaze. "He just went out, talkin' to the fieldhands."

"Well, what do you want me to do?"

Millie dropped a piece of freshly sliced lemon into two cups of cold water. "Bring these out to 'em, will you?" Tabby frowned, knowing what she was getting at.

"Sure thing." Tabby took the cups and left, wondering if they'd be reprimanded for using the fresh stuff. Shrugging, she decided otherwise; after all, fruits are poor people food, and the fact that the Traysons use vegetables is rare- especially for a family of their status. Yet, they somehow stay stronger and healthier than their carnivorous neighbors.

Maybe Simon Trayson was on to something. Having come from humble beginnings, the man had rose the ranks as a middle class merchant. He was raised a fieldhand, and married an important daughter of a rich plantation owner. When Marianne's father died, his land was divided between his daughters. Some sold the land, and some, like the Traysons, maintained it. Simon always seemed different than his neighbors, and for good reason. To his wife's disgust, he often was out in the fields with his workers- not as an overseer, but as an equal. May's contempt of her parents did not encompass her father, but she was only saddened that he stayed with her mother. It was obvious to see where May got her tolerance.

Tabby left the house, clutching the drinks in each hand. As she rounded the corner, she caught sight of Tom in deep conversation with Joshua, one of the fieldhands. Following her instinct, Tabby immediately backtracked and pressed her back against the wall, out of sight. Leaning forward slightly, she eavesdropped on their conversation.

". . . You're crazy, old man," Josh was laughing. "Of course I know people ain't happy with the British. It's been goin' on for years!"

"I know." Tom sounded exasperated. "Don't you just think there's something we shpuld do about it?"

Josh was indifferent toward the subject. "Tom, it ain't gonna change anything for us. We're still gonna be colored no matter who wins."

Tom hesitated. "So you don't think we should fight to free ourselves from the British? What if they end up thinkin' maybe we deserve a chance, and they let us fight for our freedom too!"

Tabby heard a third voice, and cursed the lack of enough drinks. "You're makin' this so... what's the word? Idealistic." Tabby knew that had to be Michael. "But you and I both know it ain't gonna play out that way. If they win their freedom- which they probably ain't- it doesn't mean shit for us. We don't know what they're gonna do. They might pass a law makin' us all slaves again." Tabby winced, hating the truth.

"They can't do that," Tom muttered.

"And why the hell not?" Mike argued. "If they're free from from the king, why won't they rewrite the rules? We're free by Britain's standards, not theirs." Tom didn't respond.

"If you want to fight, Tom, that's your choice," Josh said, trying to bring peace to the conversation. "We ain't gonna-"

While leaning forward, Tabby forgot about the drinks in her hands until they almost spilled. She saved them quickly, albeit a quiet swear slipping from her mouth. "Who's there?" Tom called.

Tabby paled. She put a fake, ignorant smile on her face and strolled out as if she wasn't just listening to their every word. "Millie wanted me to bring you some drinks, but I think she might need to make another-"

"C'mon, Tabs," Joshua willed her. He was a year younger than her, and they had been raised together since Simon saved him from a slaver when he was eight. "I know you heard what we were talking about. Here-" Josh took the drinks from his friend and handed them to the two men. "What do you think about all this?"

Tabby swallowed. Blinking, she glanced at the men awaiting her answer. "I think..." Tabby took a deep breath. "I think they give us Christian names without thinkin'. They give us names of people they respect, then look at us with nothing but contempt. Sorry, Tom. I don't think a war's gonna change that." The dejected look on the man's face made the three of them instantly regret their words. They were well aware it was for the best, though; if nobody stopped him, Tom would get himself killed out there. That was a sacrifice the tight-knit family of servants wasn't ready to make.

"Well," Mike said decisively, "now that that's settled, I'm going to go back to work." The man handed Tabby the empty glass and gave her a wink. "Give my best to Millie."

Tabby smiled and the group parted ways. Tom walked back to the house beside the girl. "Look, Tom, I'm real sorry about that. We just don't want you to get hurt, ya know?"

Tom nodded. "Thanks," he muttered, his voice betraying his hurt.

Tabby shook her head. Tom had a way of making others feel terrible that she didn't know whether the grief was genuine anymore.

Tom went to the back of the house, leaving Tabby back at the kitchens. "Well?" Millie asked, eying her.

Tabby shrugged. "You don't have to worry about him. We talked him out of it." Millie looked skeptical. "No, we did. Don't worry." In all honesty, Tabby herself wasn't convinced he was done. She just didn't need Millie worrying about him.

"Alright. Whatever you say."

May laughed, biting into an apple. "Don't mind Millie," she advised Tabby. "She worries over everybody." The girls had actually gone on a walk into town, and Millie had stopped them to buy an apple. Now they were back on the street, strolling at a leisurely pace. Tabby had just finished telling the girl the story of the morning's events. "But Tom's acting strange."

Tabby nodded. "He's worrying us. I think he might be serious."

The girls walked silently for a few moments, thinking. Suddenly May pulled them to a stop, grabbing Tabby's arm. She slowly lifted a shaking finger. "Is that him?"

Tabby cursed and pushed past her. "Stay here!" She ordered, speedwalking to Tom.

She caught up to him and grabbed his shoulder, spinning him around. "Where are you going?" Tabby asked viciously.

"I-" Tom's eyes grew wide as they shifted above her head.

"You what?" Tabby asked, crossing her arms. Tom quickly pulled her out of the street, and she understood.

The servants watched with large eyes as a white-cloaked man sprinted down the street, redcoats hot on his heels. Tabby could feel her own heartbeat pounding against her chest. Blinking, Tabby slowly attempted to suppress the adrenaline coursing through her body. "We'll talk later," she told Tom. The girl all but ran to her charge.

"What's going on?" May asked, eying her friend nervously. She had never seen Tabby look so terrified. "Are you okay?"

Tabby shook her head, pushing them forward. When the rush began to wear off, she risked a glance at the girl. "I know him," she confessed.

"You know him?" May hissed. "The man who was running from the British?"

"Yes. Well, of a sort. I met him only a couple weeks ago." May nodded.

"Calm down. He probably stole some tea or something. You know how expensive that's been getting."

Tabby nodded, though she wasn't too sure for herself.

Tabby reluctantly left the warmth of the house. She could see her breath illuminated in the moonlight as she let out a quivering sigh. The girl folded her arms over her chest and ducked her head, heading to the barn. Millie had just served dinner to the Traysons, and the fieldhands were smoking in the storehouse. Tom announced he was heading to bed early, sending Tabby a pointed glance. She understood his meaning.

Now the girl walked between the fields, heading for the barn and wishing for something more than a shawl to cover her shoulders. When she reached the barn, she almost didn't see Tom leaning against the outside wall. "What do you want?" The old man asked sharply.

"I was sent to tell you what you're doing is a bad idea. You can get hurt, and we can't afford to lose you."

Tom chuckled. "You don't sound too sure of that yourself, swetheart."

"I was," Tabby quickly snapped. "Until today at the marketplace, I mean."

"What? The kid runnin' from the redcoats? A little chase can change your mind, huh?"

Tabby shook her head. Sighing, she leaned beside him. "No. But I don't know why they were chasing him. Connor's a good kid. I don't see him doing anythin' wrong that could cause for arrest. Except maybe being a 'savage'."

Tom laughed. "You sound smitten. You know 'im?"

Tabby shrugged. "More or less. Met him a few weeks ago- you know, when they took me in at that tavern?" Tom nodded grimly; only the servants were familiar with her story. "He was the boy that the lady forced to give me my drink. I made 'im stay, so no one would bother me. I don't see why he'd be in trouble."

"So you're not here to stop me then?"

Tabby sighed. "No. I don't know. I don't think it's a good idea for you, Tom. But if you do sign up, keep me updated on events and whatnot. I want a hand in all this."

Tom eyed his little frend, shocked. She was usually a docile creature; never had he seen her so willing to take a stand for what she believes in. "A'right. And if Millie asks, you tried your best."

Tabby smiled sadly at him. Clutching the shawl closer around her, she began to walk toward the door to the barn. "I'm actually going to go to bed now, okay? See you around."

"Night." Tom stayed leaned up against the barn, watching the stars long after his friend left. He was finally content. Glancing over at the storehouse, he decided to pass the time with some of the fieldhands. Pushing himself off the wall, the old man strolled between the fields.

**I just want to thank my two reviewers for being the first (and hopefully not only) to give me feedback :) I know, this one was kind of short, and I apologize. Thank you for reading!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Well, here you are. It's not a very large chapter, but it's finally here! Think of this as my Christmas present to you. And, once again, I don't own anything except for Tabby, the Traysons, and her friends.**

**Chapter 4**

December 12, 1773

For the first time in weeks, Tabby was sleeping peacefully. She was not plagued by dreams at the moment and had an overall wonderful day. She didn't feel exhausted and overworked when she settled to bed. Of course, that couldn't last long, and she was awakened before dawn by a heavy hand pressing her mouth shut. Her eyes flew opened and she tried to let out a muffled cry. "Shhh, it's okay! Quiet!" Slowly, Tabby's eyes focused on the face above her. She stopped struggling.

May sat up, unstraddling Tabby's waist. "What the hell?" She hissed, careful not to wake Josh, who was lying only several feet away. May didn't answer, but pressed a finger to her lips and held her hand out. The girls snuck across the hay-covered barn floor, hand-in-hand. May gently pushed the door open enough for them to squeeze out. "What the hell?" Tabby asked again, once they were out of earshot of the barn.

"Come on. We're going into town." May continued to pull her friend to the house.

"Why?"

May didn't answer automatically. "My father snuck out this morning. I was eavesdropping on him and ma. Come on, I think he's part of the revolution."

Tabby blinked, trying to sort her thoughts in the early morning haze. "You mean he's against the British?"

"Exactly. We're going to see where he went, and what he's doing."

Tabby slowed down, staring at her friend incredulously. "No." May stopped and turned around, confused. "No," Tabby said again, more confidently. "I can't let you do this."

May looked betrayed. "You don't want to see what's going on?"

"Of course I do. I just-"

May held up her hands. "Don't worry, okay? I get it now. You can't go with me because it can put you in danger. I'll just go alone, then." Her tone was almost mocking. May smiled and walked away, leaving Tabby alone.

Tabby chewed on her lip. That was why she wasn't going; May was dead on. She just hated the fact that, once put into words, it sounded selfish and unkind. "Fine!" The girl called, running to her friend. "Fine. I'll go with you."

May grinned widely. "Great! Now, I heard something about the Green Dragon Tavern. I don't know where it is, but I think we can-"

"I know where it is," Tabby interrupted her. The girl stared at her for a moment, awaiting explanation. "Remember that night I didn't come home? I stayed there."

"Well, I sure hope they don't recognize you, because we're disgusing ourselves." Tabby's eyes grew bright. She always played it safe, and was excited to do something fun for once, even if it had an underlying purpose. Something that proved she wasn't "docile little Tabby" as everybody called her.

"Disguises?"

"Well, yeah. You can't walk in there looking like that. You'll stand out."

The excitement grew in Tabby. She loved the confidence gained by wearing another visage. It had to be psychological, the effect a mask had on somebody's actions. "What do you have in mind?"

Tabitha felt ridiculous. What was even worse in her opinion was that nobody doubted the disguise. She was accepted and treated as she looked. They didn't even give her a second glance. May assured her that she's beautiful, but she couldn't explain the phenomenon that took place.

"Tabby..." May said quietly. "You're really attractive. I want to date you."

"Fuck off," she muttered, glaring at her amused friend.

May stopped laughing. "Okay, okay. Let's go."

Together, the two girls walked through town. Dressed like this, Tabby received a completely different type of attention. "How do you wear this?" May asked, tugging at her loose clothing. "It's so scratchy."

"A lot better than those corsets you wear," Tabby teased.

"Maybe to you, but I prefer corsets to this." May, the daughter of the respected and wealthy Simon Trayson, was dressed like a poor beggar girl. Tabby, who couldn't fall on anything lower than she was and would only be made more conspicuous in any other clothing, was dressed as a man.

The couple entered the Green Dragon Tavern and weren't given a second glance. "Is this what it feels like to be poor?" May whispered.

"You're an ass." The girls instantly recognized Simon Trayson. He was sitting at a table with two strangers. Sitting beside Simon was Tom. Tabby swore under her breath.

"Is that...?" Tabby nodded and grabbed her wrist, urging her forward.

"Let's sit there." The girls sat at the table behind Simon and Tom. They pretended to play a card game as they eavesdropped.

"This is my man I was telling you about!" Simon exclaimed brightly, patting Tom on the back.

"What's your name, son?" One of Simon's friends asked.

"Thomas, sir." Tom was smiling brightly, a smile Tabby knew well. Though she couldn't see him, she knew the effect it produced. It transformed him from an experienced worker to a bashful young man.

"It's nice to meet you, Tom. I think we will be able to work well together."

As they were listening, a woman strolled up to the couple. "He yours?" She asked May ungracefully. Confused, May shook her head and went back to acting like she was inspecting the cards. The woman smiled. "Good," she said, resting a hand on Tabby's shoulder. "I was looking to hire a strong young man like yourself," she began trailing the hand over her back and gently massaging Tabby's shoulders, "for a job I have." Leaning down, she whispered seductively in her ear. "Let me know if you're interested, love."

May tried hard to hold back her laughter, but failed miserably. Blushing profusely, Tabby shot daggers at her friend. "We'll never speak of this."

May laughed. "As if. I'm mentioning this to everybody as soon as we get home."

The girls returned to their mock game, listening in once more on the conversation. Mostly banter, Tabby doubted it was going anywhere.

After nearly twenty minutes of listening in on jokes and small talk, Tabby was ready to leave. May, on the otherhand, was far from it.

"I know how these things go. The minute we leave, we'll miss something important."

Tabby frowned. "Your mother will notice your absence if we don't go soon."

"Come on. Just a few more minutes, okay? Trust me. Then we can go."

A few minutes passed, and May looked disappointed. Then a man pulled a chair up to their table. Tabby's eyes widened. The last time she saw him, he was running through the streets with the redcoats hot on his trail. "Can I join?" He asked darkly.

"Sure," Tabby said, voice deep. She willed him not to recognize her, though she was confident he saw through her disguise.

May looked terrified. Under the table, Tabby gently kicked her. She relaxed a little and dealt Connor his cards.

"Do you do this often?" He asked after a long moment of silence.

"Play cards?" May asked, voice shaky. "All the time."

Connor ignored her, staring at Tabby. She smiled nervously. "You mean dress like a man? Honestly, no. Only when she takes me out."

"Eavesdrop."

May swore under her breath, confirming his accusation. Tabby glared at her before turning back to him. Smiling innocently, she shook her head. "I don't know what you're talking about. Connor, is it?"

His eyes narrowed, inspecting her face. "I know you."

"We met here a month ago." She watched as his eyes slowly gained recognition.

"You didn't answer me."

Tabby laughed. "No, honestly. We never do this. But that man is her father, and the man beside him is the closest thing I have to one. We're just looking out for them."

"I'm sure you are."

"Honestly!" May cried, staring at him. She seemed much more comfortable after learning of the familiarity between him and Tabby. "We were only worried. And was it that easy to figure out?"

"I could hear you two talking from across the room," Connor stated bluntly.

"Right," May muttered, thoroughly embarrassed.

Tabby stared at him. "So then," she began, trying not to smile, "you were eavesdropping on us?"

"And doing a much better job of it," Connor said, meeting her eyes briefly.

"If you're so great at it, care to give us some pointers?" May smiled hopefully.

Connor sighed. "Just be careful," he advised, glancing between them. "You can get in a lot of trouble if somebody notices." As an afterthought, he added, "And it's not that hard to notice."

Standing up, Connor turned around to leave. "Nice seeing you again," Tabby called. He gave her a quick nod of acknowledgement before briskly leaving the tavern.

"Does he even know your name?" May asked, amused.

Tabitha shrugged. "Doesn't really matter."

May smiled sympathetically. "Yeah. You still have that girl from earlier to fall back on." Tabby quickly changed the subject.

"What game are we playing again?"

"Beats me." Laughing, May pushed herself up from her chair. "Come on. Let's go."

**Another end to another chapter! A very uneventful one, at that. Either way, there it was, and I hope you enjoyed it! Please leave your feedback. A special thanks to the followers, favorites, and especially the reviewers. You guys are amazing. A very special thanks to Victoria-Nicole for writing a couple epic reviews and inadvertently reminding me I needed to finish this chapter! Merry Christmas and happy holidays to all. I hope the they're treating you well!**


	5. Chapter 5

**I only own Tom, Josh, Tabby, the Traysons, Millie, and all the other workers. Connor belongs to Ubisoft, and everyone else belongs to history!**

**Chapter 5**

December 16, 1773

Thomas's eyes roamed over the sleeping forms of his co-workers. He was the first up, as usual. Today, however, he had a purpose.

Only moments before, Simon had called for him and described the night's plans. Tom was both scared and nervous, but his master's trust in him had struck a chord. His loyalty was already high, but with a mutual respect, Tom felt different. For once, his master- no, employer- believed in him. What hurt him the most was that the white man believed in him more than hiss own brothers seemed to.

Tom was no fool. He understood their actions; the poor souls had already lost too much, and didn't want to lose any more. They all came from different backgrounds, but by the time they reached the Traysons' yard, they were all very much the same. Hardened from too much loss and abuse, they came In believing they would never feel again. The kindness shown by Simon was a burden as much as a generosity. The man gave them respect and love that they had never known. His eyes stopped at Tabby. Perhaps she could have, having been born free. However, as an orphan, it was doubtful she'd stay free very long. She's faced the abuse as much as the rest of them.

Yet with Simon's kindness came an undeniable price. The hardened edges the workers had worked so hard had slowly eroded and softened by his generosity. Even the grief Marianne gave them was nothing compared to what they had to go through- every single one of them.

Where the former slaves (and Tabby) may be able to take the beatings given to them by their "superiors", they were undeniably soft. There was a time where sweet, talkative Millie was frightened to silence for a week. When she came back around, she was distant. Josh, only seven at the time, had watched a friend bleed to death the night after a severe beating by his master. There was a time where a fellow worker would go out into war and battle and there would be no one bothering to convince him it was a bad idea. In fact, it may be the best answer, at times. At least then the beatings are your own fault.

Now, they cringed at the thought of Tom leaving. They feared he wouldn't return. They were willing to break the old man's heart so long as it would give him a chance at survival.

Tom crouched beside the sixteen-year-old and gently shook her. He had these same feelings. He didn't want to involve her. He feared she wouldn't return from this. But what kind of selfish behavior would that be, if he ran off to join the resistance and didn't give the chance to the brightest youth he knew?

He knew they wouldn't possibly let her participate. After all, as a woman, she had less opportunities than men. As a native, she had less. As a "negress" (as Marianne often called her), she had even less. Tabby and Millie had next to no rights at the moment. Tom's only hope was that sometime in the future, women like them could have the chance. Someday, everybody could have the chance to prove their worth, regardless of race or gender. Tom knew he was getting ahead of himself, but hopefully allowing this young woman to shine could help him get over his own fears for the future.

Tabby turned and looked at him groggily. She slowly opened her eyes and blinked, focusing. "Mornin'," she whispered.

"C'mon, I need t' talk to you." Tom remembered somebody telling him once about this Shakespearean play he once saw, where in the beginning a tinker is dressed as a lord and instantly begins speaking with eloquence. He wondered if what the scene was portraying was true, that the difference between a lord and peasant lied in clothing and material items. He especially wondered if he, too, could easily speak as if he had taken mannerism classes since a baby. Tom believed it was true; he had heard the shift in Tabby's voice and vocabulary depending on who she was talking to. He wondered if he ever spoke as if he wasn't a slave his entire life. That is, until he remembered he was.

Tabby followed him out the barn. "What is it?" She asked as they began to stroll toward the house. The pinkish streams of dawn were beginning to peak over the horizon.

"You asked me to keep you updated." He smiled proudly.

Tabby looked up, surprised. "Yeah?"

Tom came to a halt and glanced around him. Leaning forward, he talked quietly to the girl. "Tonight they're plannin' on sackin' some British ships. Dumping the tea off the sides. A couple of 'em are dressin' like Indians, ya know."

"Yes, I know. 'Cause we're completely uncivilized savages that would throw tea overboard, and they're not."

Tom chuckled. "Exactly. Anyway, I thought you'd like t' come, if you want. I wouldn't suggest comin' dressed like you, though. Might cause some trouble."

"Wasn't plannin' on it. I make a convincing man, ya know."

"So May told us." Tabby frowned. She didn't think she'd actually talk about it. Then again, it was Tabby, and she talked about anything there was to talk about. Tom saw the slight surprise in the girls eyes and patted her shoulder. "Meet me out 'ere after chores, dressed an' ready."

Tabby bravely lifted her head. She nodded in what she hoped was a confident way.

The girl stared around her, eyes wide. She was standing high up on a branch- higher than she had ever been before, and higher than she dared. She felt light-headed, the fear that one misplaced step could send her plummeting to her death all too real. Trying not to tremble, Tabby gingerly clung to the trunk and climbed down. As she descended the tree, she welcomed the increasing lack of distance between herself and safety.

Tabby walked home, short of breath. She willed the warmth of the adrenaline coursing through her to cease, her mind still spinning even as she was almost home.

The first to spot her was Josh. He looked more frustrated than he usually is. "Tabs? Where'd ya go? We were all lookin' for you!"

Tabby's eyes grew wide with fear. "Even-"

"I mean us. Me an' Millie. Don't worry, she didn't notice." Tabby breathed a sigh of relief. "Anyway," Josh went on, leading her to the house. "Millie wants you t' help her with somethin'."

"Thanks."

"Anytime. What were you doin' out there, anyway?"

Tabby laughed nervously. "Climbin'."

Josh gave her an odd look. "I thought you were afraid of heights?"

Tabby nodded. "I'm gettin' better at it. Climb a little higher each day, ya know?"

"May said you sometimes take 'er too."

"I do."

"Ain't she a little…" Josh looked thoughtful. He was careful in his words. He knew May was a friend of Tabby, and didn't want to hurt her feelings or cause a rift between them. "Uh…"

"Self-centered? A little. But she's young. She'll grow out of it."

They arrived at the door of the house. "If ya say so. Bye, Tabs." He turned around and walked back to the field.

Tabby watched him go. Swearing, she gave up. "Josh!" She called. He turned around as she jogged to him.

"Josh," she panted. The distance wasn't that great, but her anxiety was causing her to breathe unsteadily. "Look, you're like my little brother. I love you. So know that I wouldn't be tellin' you this if I didn't." Josh waited, staring at her curiously. "You can't tell anyone this, okay?"

"I wasn't plannin' on it."

"Good. Good." Tabby reprimanded herself for her inability to get to the point. "And ya can't be mad at me, either."

Josh frowned. "Please just spit it out, Tabby."

"Alright! Alright. Look, me and Tom are goin' out tonight. I promised I'd help him, even though we agreed it was dangerous." Josh nodded, listening. "I don't know how this is going to go, so if things go south, I just wanted you to know I'm doin' this for me. Not for Tom."

Josh sighed. "I never doubted you wouldn't. You want me to come with you?"

Tabby shook her head quickly. "No, no. I'm not even s'posed to be telling you this. If Tom found out he might kill me before we get there." Josh laughed.

He quickly turned serious again. "Just be careful, Tabs. I don't like this. How you think they're gonna act to a girl?"

"They won't know I'm a girl. Don't worry, Josh. I got this under control."

"If you get hurt, I'm never gonna forgive myself."

"Don't you have work to do?"

Josh held up his hands in surrender and began strolling back to the fields again. "You're the one that stopped me in the first place!"

As soon as she finished washing the dishes from dinner, Tabby looked up at Millie with large eyes. "May I go?" She pleaded.

Millie sighed. "Yeah, sure. I s'pose. There ain't nothin' left to do here anyway."

She rushed back to the barn, eager to get there before anyone else. Her hopes were tarnished.

"Here." Tabby recognized the figure as Josh. He walked up to her and thrust a small pile of clothes in her arms. "We're about the same size, anyway. You'll look more believable than if you were in Tom's clothes." Tom was much taller than her. She accepted the clothes.

"Thanks."

"Don't get hurt, okay?" Tabby laughed and nodded.

"C'mon, Josh. It's me." He continued to stare at her, doubtful. "Fine, fine. I'll be okay. Trust me."

"I do. I don't trust anyone else, though. Stay close t' Tom, okay? He'll keep you safe." She nodded.

"I'll see ya later," Tabby told him.

"Yeah."

Josh left, allowing her to get ready in peace. Tabby quickly stripped and followed the same procedure she did only days before with May. She used a long strip of cloth to tightly bind her breasts, wincing at the pain caused by the tightness. She knew it would get better later, so she didn't worry about it. Slipping Josh's old shirt over her, she relished in the freedom of men's clothing.

Once dressed, Tabby knotted her hair up and slipped a hat on, completing her transformation. Already boyish in appearance, she despised the fact that she was more convincing like this than as a woman. At least, according to that promiscuous woman at the tavern.

Tabby quickly left the barn, nodding thankfully at Josh on the way out. He had guarded the door for her, making sure nobody was to see her dressed like this. Tabby rushed to the designated spot.

Tom was already there, hands in pockets and watching the dying sun's last rays of dusk peek over the horizon. It reminded her of that morning. "Sorry I'm late," Tabby said quietly, stepping beside him. "I had to help Millie with the dishes."

"It's not problem. Come on, Simon's waiting for us."

"Simon?" Tabby blinked, surprised. She had almost forgot that Simon Trayson had been in on this.

"He asked we call 'im Simon now. Says it makes 'im feel more like a man, makes us seem more like equals. He's a good man."

Tabby nodded her agreement. "And he knows 'bout me?"

"I told 'im. He didn't like it at first, but I got him to agree." She didn't want to ask.

Tabby followed Tom as he led her away from the house and towards the fields. They walked for a long while, strolling through the length of the fields with a hurried pace. Eventually Tabby was able to make out the figure of Simon Trayson at the edge of the property. He was standing beside a cab, awaiting their arrival.

"I'm glad you two could make it!" Simon called, smiling widely. "Tabitha, I almost didn't recognize you!"

Tabby smiled sheepishly. "Thank you, Master Trayson."

"Call me Simon. We're going to be brothers in arms from now on, so there's no need for formality." He was a strong and handsome man, younger than he should be yet older than he looks. Tabby remembered May complaining that people would sometimes mistake him for her brother or a young uncle, not her father. Tabby told her he was blessed with a good heart that reflected even on his outer appearance. She always had great respect for Simon, as he saved every one of them from lives of poverty and imprisonment.

Tom and Tabby followed Simon into the covered cab. He gave the symbol for the driver, and Tabby felt as the cab began to slowly roll underneath them. "I wanted to thank both of you for coming. This resistance means a lot to me. It could mean the freedom of my family. I want everyone to have the same chance that I got when I was younger." A spark seemed to come to his eye. Tabby assumed it was hope and pride. "I hope that someday other young boys-" He looked at Tabby quickly. "And girls- can have the opportunity to make their impression based on who they are, not where they were born."

Tom spoke for the both of them. "It's an honor that you're letting us come, sir. Not many people would give us the chance to prove ourselves."

"I think it would be good for our cause to show that they accept anyone. It'll definitely help us in the long run, I'm sure."

"So where are we headed?"

His voice dropped dramatically, careful not to let the driver hear. "To Nathaniel Bradley's house. It's where we're meeting the others. From there, we'll be gathered and all walk over to the docks, where we'll then board the ships and dump the tea." Tabby and Tom nodded. "I want you two to stay close to me, at Bradley's house as well as on the ships. I can't ensure the others will be as accepting, and I need you two get home safe."

They arrived at Bradley's house with adequate time to socialize. Simon dragged the two around the rooms, talking to his comrades. "So, basically," Simon told his servants quietly after introducing them to one man. "The men in charge around here fight with us."

"As it should be," Tabby said darkly, glancing around the room. "They should know what their men are going through. What they're dying for." Tom glanced at her, surprised at her sudden graveness.

"You prove a valid point, Ta- what is your name?" Simon asked, chuckling with embarrassment. She felt humiliated; they had forgot to come up with a fake name for her.

"Ah-"

Tom cut in. "His name is Taylor," he announced. Simon smiled widely.

"Right. Taylor."

Tabby, or Taylor as her name seemed to have changed to, laughed nervously.

Nathaniel Bradley's door opened, and in walked a few men of importance. Tabby's eyes widened. Of course, she thought. Of course he would be here. Of course he would be important to this cause above all others.

The group of men gathered in the small house all seemed to know what this meant. "We're leaving now," Simon muttered. "Stick close to me. Don't stray. We're all going to walk over to the docks now, and I don't want you to get lost."

Tom and Tabby followed closely once again. Everyone left the house, yelling and swearing and laughing into the night sky. She wouldn't be surprised if most of these men were drunk; either way, they were the loudest and rowdiest group she had ever been a part of.

Tabby tried to keep an eye on Connor, but he had left with the other men long before the rest of the group did. Somebody near her said something about them clearing the area of the redcoats. Thinking of the weapons he carried, she had no doubt it would be any problem. Such a fact terrified her.

Tom walked in silence. He seemed to be oblivious to the disorder of his comrades; an inextinguishable fire was burning within him, the pride and quest for freedom. He had high hopes. There was no doubt in his heart that this day will be a failure. He decided that that feeling inside of him was enough to convince him to stay. Even if, God forbid, today be a failure, Tom will ride it out. Tom will rise up from this and continue this quest for another man's freedom, despite the consequences. "We've all gotta die someday, Tabs," he muttered. "When we do, and how we go out is up to us. Would you rather go out because of an accident or some man on the street, or as a martyr for freedom?"

Tabby didn't answer. She sensed he wasn't seeking one anyway. It was obvious.

They arrived at the docks quickly. Feeling the rising excitement in the men surrounding her, Tabby felt her anticipation rising. There were no redcoats around; Connor had taken care of them. He was standing aside now, watching as the men all but sprinted onto the ships, Simon amongst them.

Tabby and Tom set to work instantly, grabbing boxes and throwing them overboard. It was rhythmic, unrushed, easy. "Regulars!" It wasn't until the call was heard that their movements became rapid and hurried.

She dumped the tea as quickly as she could, not bothering to watch the fighting. Simon had pushed her to one side of the ship. "Keep going!" He cried. She obeyed, not daring to look up. It wasn't until Tom swore loudly and broke away from her that she decided to examine the world around her. A loud gunshot tore through the air, startling her. Eyes wide, she watched the sprays of red and listened to the clashes of metal ringing through the night. Swallowing thickly, she spotted many things at once. Simon was fighting beside Tom. He squeezed the trigger of his musket and watched as the soldier fell to the ground. Tom viciously stabbed one with his bayonet, clearly out for blood. What caught Tabby's eyes were neither her father figure nor her master, but the Native boy in the middle of the largest battle. Connor effortlessly killed like it was a second nature. While he was distracted with one, another soldier snuck up behind him and attempted to stab him. Tabby watched as he spun around and grabbed the man's gun, pulling him into himself. He lodged his tomahawk into the man's head. Two attempted to attack him at the same time, and Tabby ignorantly feared for him. She had no reason to; only a moment later, he had both of them killed. He had shoved one's bayonet aside, so his force was directed into his friend. His friend dislodged himself from his comrade's blade and fell to the ground. He pulled out his pistol, attempting to shoot Connor in a last-ditch effort to protect himself. Connor then grabbed the other one and used him as a human shield. Tossing him aside, he advanced on his prey to finish the job. The entire movement was fluid and natural, Connor's dominance in the battle evident even from a distance. His ease and predatory movements reminded Tabby of a wolf. Feeling sick, she turned away to continue the job.

There were several waves to the battle. Tom was sure to protect Tabby from ever having to fight. It got to the point where she was extremely annoyed with the man's protection. It was as if he didn't believe she was able to fend for herself. Thinking back to that night she met Connor, she decided he had a right to believe that. Nevertheless, she was frustrated with both him and herself.

The battle only lasted minutes. Five at the most. Once it was over and she had the chance to look over the bodies, she felt disgusted. So many people had lost their lives in such a short time- and for what? Men from both sides of the battle lost their lives over_ tea,_ of all things.

It certainly did well to change her perspective on how quickly things can change. She forced herself not to think of the wives and children being told their fathers and brothers aren't returning tonight.

Suppressing her thoughts, Tabby busied herself. There was only one box left in their section, and as it turned out, it was the last one on both ships.

"Come on," Simon said, urging Tom and Tabby upward. Tom had sat beside her as she contemplated the events that had just unfolded.

They followed him as he walked off the ship. He froze suddenly, turning to look at them. "Neither of you know that young man's name by any chance, do you?" He asked, eyes searching theirs. Tabby leaned over to see who he was referring to.

"That's Connor. I… I'm afraid I forgot his last name. It's been quite a while." Simon nodded briskly. He didn't care to ask how she knew him; it was none of his business.

"Who does he know you as?"

Tabby grinned, understanding his meaning. "Both, I suppose me. He met me a while back, but I saw him a few days ago dressed like this. I'm not too sure he remembers me from last month," Tabby said thoughtfully. "But he probably remembers me from a few days ago." She doubted he could forget. Then again, thinking back to his ease in fighting, she couldn't doubt anything about him. Maybe he met more eavesdroppers daily than the next person.

Simon approached Connor warily. "Ah, Connor?" He asked unsurely. Tom and Tabby stayed just behind him. As the man turned around, Simon was shocked at the obvious youth in his features. He fought better than the experienced generals that trained Simon. He quickly recovered, holding up the box. "We saved you the last one." Connor nodded his thanks, eyes flickering to Tabby suspiciously. She grinned at him; they were seeing far too much of each other lately.

"Thank you," Connor told Simon, taking the box. He turned around and walked to the other side of the narrow scaffolding. Tabby didn't see who it was, but three men on the other side of the dock were staring at him. Connor proudly held up the box for them to see before dropping it dramatically into the ocean.

"He's sending a message to whoever's over there," Tabby whispered to Tom. He grunted in response.

"That's that kid from the market, ain't it? You don't see clothes like that anywhere else."

"Kind of makes him stick out, definitely. I wouldn't have remembered him otherwise, so it's good, I guess."

The three of them slowly walked back to the cab. "Tom," Tabby said suddenly. "Back there, you kept makin' sure I didn't fight. Do you think-"

"I don't want you gettin' hurt, Tabby. You know that."

"I can stand up for myself, you know."

Tom stared straight ahead, physically unaffected by her aggression. He was patient. "I do. I just wasn't about to let you do something stupid."

Tabby frowned, but backed off. She didn't want to get into this in front of Simon. She occupied her mind with plans of confronting him about this later. She needed anything to occupy her mind at this point; when she closed her eyes, the only thing she saw was the blood and the bodies.

**There we are, another chapter! That one was especially long, wasn't it? I'll be honest here, I got a little into it. I was listening to music that fit perfectly with what I was writing and found myself writing twice as much as those other chapters. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it. Review, follow, favorite. PM me, I don't care. It makes me feel special :)**


	6. Chapter 6

**I don't own Assassin's Creed, and that is my only regret.**

**Chapter 6**

December 24, 1773

Tabby held back a curse as she marched into Boston. Marianne had sent her out to find a doll for her niece. She had forgotten to buy it earlier, and sent Tabby to do it. "If you run off with that money, I'll have your head, little girl." Tabby didn't doubt she would. Tabby had no intention of stealing the money, anyway. That was just a harsh assumption. She wouldn't let it get to her head; it was expected, anyway.

Tabby knew if Tom or Josh or Millie or any of the fieldhands found out about this, they would be furious. She didn't tell them anything. It was after hours with no extra pay, but Tabby didn't think of it that way. It was one errand. She had met other free servants forced to work extra hours without pay; one nighttime errand was no problem.

They would be worried for her leaving at this time of night, especially after the beating that she took the last time she had. Tabby wasn't too scared about that at the moment, though. She knew the racism wouldn't stop, but she had lost that fear. White men weren't immortal. She had seen a river of their bodies just a week before. She had seen Connor, a Native, dominate them in battle. They weren't superior after all; they were just under the false assumption that they could rule the world. If anything, Tabby shouldn't fear or sympathize with them; she should pity their ignorance.

Even as she thought his, she knew it was impossible for her to feel that way. She couldn't pity them, because it put her right where they were now. It would be as if she felt herself superior to them, and honestly, she didn't. She felt inferior for most of her life just by the damper on her spirits they had placed on her as a child. After that battle in the docks, she didn't feel inferior anymore. If anything, she felt equal. They bled, they hurt, they died. They feared, she decided, remembering the panic of the man that had attempted to shoot Connor after he had already been stabbed.

Pushing the memory to the back of her head, Tabby forced herself to think of the task at hand. Buy a doll for May's baby cousin. Keep whatever money is left over close. She will count it and recount it. One pound off, and Tabby's on the streets. The only difficulty will be finding a store still open this late on the night before Christmas.

Walking this late on the streets, Tabby was bound to get some odd looks. It was no surprise, and she did her best to ignore it and just enjoy the night air. It was below freezing; snow lined the streets, pushed to the side and melted where the common walked. She wished Marianne had sent her at any other time of the day. The temperature was dropping rapidly now, and Tabby had nothing but her coat to wrap around herself. Shivering, she picked up the pace.

A dim light pouring from an open door caught her attention. She watched a man leave the shop, clutching something small to his chest. Curious, Tabby approached the building.

Tabby smiled brightly. She had no doubt this little shop sold dolls; a few hand-painted dolls sat in the windows, advertising a family-friendly environment. Peering in the window more, she began to take a mental inventory. It seemed to be a small toy store. Hand-carved wooden toys lined the shelves. Marbles, dolls, fishing sticks. It seemed like a good place to buy from. Tabby watched a girl with her father being handed a newly-purchased doll. The bright look on her face was enough to convince Tabby to buy from here.

That, and the cold. The cold played a good part in persuasion.

Tabitha stepped away from the foggy window and walked to the door. Just as she stepped in, she was approached and promptly ushered out. "Slow down little lady, what do you think you're doing?"

The man that had escorted her out shut the door behind him. "I was going to buy a doll, sir. I have money."

The man shook his head. "I'm sorry. We don't, uh. We're not open."

Tabby cocked her head. She just saw a man buy from there, hadn't she? "But-"

"We're not open," the man repeated more sternly. He gave her a hard look. "We're not open for the likes of you."

Tabby felt stupid for not realizing his meaning before. "Oh, sir! But it's jus' for a little girl! It's Christmas tomorrow, have some mercy!"

The man shook his head and cracked a smile. "Not my fault you got pregnant. I don't e'en know why I'm talkin' to you. Filthy." The man turned around, prepared to go inside.

"I don't have a kid, sir. It's for-" Not her employer, that's for sure. He'd laugh in her face. "It's for my master's niece."

"Not my problem. Tell your master," he gave her a disdainful look, "if he wants to buy from 'ere he ought to come hisself. Don't know why he'd trust you with money anyway. Now get outta here before I call the guards."

Dejected, Tabby left. Considering his circumstances, the man was rather polite. She'd met shopkeepers that would cause a much bigger scene. Still, it was a major let down. Tabby was determined to find a place that would let her buy from them. She desperately wanted to get out of this cold. The warmth of that shop had tempted her. Now that she had gotten a taste of comfort, she was persistent in her quest for more. Frowning, Tabby pulled her coat closer to her and quickened her pace. She would not go home empty-handed.

She knew if she had to, she could wait until the early morning before going to get the present. Marianne wasn't expecting her to get home until well after she had already settled into bed, and if Tabby left before anyone woke she could easily be home before breakfast. However, Tabby would see this as a sort of a failure. She was sent out here for one thing, and if she didn't get that doll tonight she may as well not come home. Besides, by the off-chance she was late, Tabby wanted to be honest. It will help her retain her job. Despite Marianne's prejudice, Simon was a good man who deserved her loyalty. She could not let him down.

Sometimes Tabby despised her values of loyalty. It prevented her from being selfish and looking out for her own well-being. She knew she would go to the world's end and back for those she loved, and sometimes she wondered if they would do the same. She doubted they would.

Tabby continued to walk in silence. Every step she took rang through the deserted street. She felt acutely aware of her surroundings. The whisper of the naked branches quivering in the icy breeze above her. The feel of the searing cold enveloping her. The sound of the heavy pounding and scuffling of several men running in her direction.

Eyes wide, Tabby sprinted to the nearest alley. She backed away from the main street and wondered when they'd find her. Maybe that man had called the guards after all. Maybe someone had seen her leave and stalked her until it was quiet and there were no witnesses. Maybe one of those men from before had seen her and alerted the rest of his group to finish the job. She wouldn't be surprised; she had heard stories of free black men and women being lynched. She had heard the wails of a mother when her young son didn't return home because of a group of men like these.

She was expecting an attack. She was expecting to be cornered and taunted as she was beaten. She wasn't expecting a man to cut the corner quickly and collide into her. The breath was expelled from her lungs as she collapsed beneath the familiar stranger, both falling onto the ground. The white-clad man quickly rolled off of her and stood up. Tabby shuffled to the wall. "You again," Connor grunted, glancing at her. She couldn't agree more; they were seeing far too much of each other lately. It was becoming almost irritating to Tabby; he went from being nonexistent to being everywhere she looked. He turned his attention back to where he had run from. There was no point in running anymore; he had lost his advantage. Tabby stared as two long knives slid from under his sleeves.

"Where do you get one of those?" She asked no one in particular, eying his hidden blades with interest. They could have come in handy on a number of occasions. He didn't say anything; only waited. She understood. "What's happening?" She asked dangerously, glaring out of the alley.

She didn't have to ask. A squad of redcoats rounded the corner, muskets at the ready.

If she had thought Connor fighting was scary from a distance, it was absolutely terrifying only feet away. There were seven of them in all.

He had quickly disposed of two. As one went in to stab him, he grabbed him by the gun and threw him into another friend. They rolled on the ground, attempting to get up. Connor quickly slashed the torso of another. He clutched the reddening gash in his stomach and stumbled backward, falling to the ground right beside Tabby. Tabby watched the man in shock as the fire in his eyes slowly died and he passed out from the quick loss of blood. Swallowing thickly, Tabby grabbed his pistol and inched away from him.

Three left. Tabby would have been impressed by his ability to dispose of people so quickly if she wasn't so afraid for him. She didn't know him well, but she knew him much better than these men chasing him. She felt cold as she wondered why he was being chased. Maybe he was doing something for the good of the Revolution. Maybe they had attacked him because they recognized him as a perpetrator. What does that mean for Simon, then? Would he be hunted, too?

Her blood boiled at the next thought. Maybe it wasn't about that at all. Maybe it was some petty thing that would have been excused if it weren't for his heritage. She wouldn't put it past them.

Tabby would have been perfectly fine staying out of the fight. She knew Connor was very capable of taking care of himself, but she had panicked. He had his back to the man, and was dealing with his two other friends. All Tabby could think of when she raised the gun was her family. If that was Josh, who was as close to her as a little brother, or Tom, the closest thing she ever had to a father, she would never live with herself to let them go without a fight. Connor was special to somebody; he had to be. If he wasn't, then he would be. He was still young. She couldn't let him die when there was somebody waiting for him.

Hit 'im right between the eyes.

She aimed and closed her own. Tom's voice was the only thing she heard apart from her pounding heart.

Relax. Bend your arm. Keep it down, keep it low. Good, good. Now, breathe steady, an' slowly squeeze the trig-

Tabby hadn't realized what was happening until the kick of the gun vibrated within her. Her eyes snapped open, and, horrified, she stared at the man. He dropped to the ground. Good job. We'll make a hunter outta you after all.

She hadn't missed her mark. She rarely did. This was why she was Tom's favorite disciple, after all. Usually, this was something she took pride in. Tonight, she wished to God she had missed.

Tabby dropped the gun like it was on fire. She quickly rushed over to the man, ignoring the remainder of the fight taking place only feet away. Tabby turned the man to face upward. "Wake up," she willed him, nudging him. "Wake up!" She shook him. The hole in his head was red and fresh. His eyes stared forward, the confidence still there. He was so sure he had defeated Connor, he was already celebrating. Swallowing thickly, Tabby shook him harder. "Come on, sir, wake up! I didn't mean it, I swear, I-" She frantically wiped the tears away from her eyes. "You'll be fine, okay?" She asked. Tabby was well aware he was dead, but didn't want to admit to herself that she had ended somebody's life. She closed his eyes with trembling hands. She was well aware that she may break down at any second. A wave of relief washed over her when Connor spoke.

"We can't stay here." She didn't respond to him; she was too busy staring at the man she had just killed. He had a crooked nose, evidence of a break sometime in his life. Along with his fully-developed mustache, it seemed his beard was beginning to grow back; light stubble framed his thin cheeks. He had dark hair and brown eyes. A scar ran across his left cheek. His wrinkles told her something about his age; he looked at least 40. She wondered what kind of life he had. By the laughing lines and crow's feet around his eyes, she assumed he laughed a lot. The ache in her chest grew.

She was almost thankful when Connor had grabbed her arm and roughly pulled her up. He dragged her away from the alley and far enough down the street that they wouldn't be associated with the bodies.

They walked in silence. Tabby allowed Connor to lead her; she was too numb to do it herself. When they were far from the alley, the pair slowed down. "Stop," Tabby muttered. She ripped her arm from Connor's grasp and ran to the nearest bush. She leaned against the nearest building, bracing her shoulder against the wall. She began to cough violently. Her dry heaves were painful. It felt as if her lungs were caving in with every strangled gasp. As thankful as she was that she had left before eating (she didn't know if she could live down throwing up in front of a friendly stranger like Connor), Tabby wished something was in her stomach. Maybe then, it wouldn't feel like she was trying to rid herself of her insides.

Tabby crouched down beside the bush. Using the wall as her only support, she began to sob hysterically. Connor stood by, allowing her to grieve. He didn't know what to do; he doesn't often deal with people crying.

Tabby allowed herself to boil in her own misery. She sat on her knees, pathetically weeping. "Did you know him?" Connor asked suddenly, attempting to curb his confusion.

Tabby shook her head quickly. Connor was only more confused. Why would somebody mourn over someone she never knew? He assumed it had to do with the fact that she had killed him, though he didn't exactly understand how she was feeling; there had come a point in his life where he was so used to the necessary casualties that he lost his sympathy. Of course, that didn't mean he didn't kill unless it was absolutely necessary. Connor valued all lives; however, he very well understood that, in his profession, it was often necessary to end them. To see somebody so clueless that there is a war that has been going on for centuries just before them and naive to the fact that anyone can be a casualty was almost infuriating. She would never have to go through what he did. She would never have to hunt down her own father. She would never feel the weight of an entire creed on her shoulders. She was unplagued by the responsibilities Connor was faced with daily.

And yet, he found it refreshing to see that people could be safe from his world. People could live in peace away from the constant war between the Assassins and Templars. There was an entirely different world that was completely oblivious to the ulterior motives of almost every war and conflict. He wondered how it would feel to be away from all this, but quickly suppressed the curiosity. He had a mission.

Connor opened his mouth to say something, but didn't. He realized he didn't know her name.

Tabby stopped crying and pulled her knees to her chest. "He could have had a family. He could have kids, a wife. He could have brothers and sisters who care about him. He could have… He could have…"

"He could have killed you," Connor reminded her. She lifted her wet eyes to his.

Tabby hesitated. "Yeah." A cold silence separated the two.

"We should get you back home," Connor told her suddenly.

"Huh?"

"Come on." Tabby stood up quickly.

"You're taking me home?" Connor didn't say anything. He just looked at her, waiting. "I can't go home yet."

"Why?" Connor asked, annoyed. He was trying to do her a favor, after all.

"I was sent out to buy a doll," she explained quickly, seeing his discomfort. "If I come back empty-handed…" Tabby shook her head, thinking. I'll be hanged, she decided. I'll be fired, put out on the streets, and subject to abuse. "I can't go back without that doll."

Connor noted her seriousness. Mentally groaning, he caved. "Fine. There's a small shop just-"

"They don't sell to me."

Connor gave her a sharp look. "We'll see about that."

Tabby didn't know how to feel as they walked back the way she came from. She was still numb from the murder she had just committed to that man, but she will grieve later. For now, she just had to get home with that damned doll that had caused all this trouble.

Tabby was well aware that, had she not killed the man, Connor would have. Either way, that man would have died tonight. If he hadn't, Connor would have. That would have been a pity; she was getting used to seeing his face just about everywhere she turned.

But the fact still remained. The man had died by her hand. It had been Tabby who pulled the trigger, not Connor. It had been Tabby who denied the man the right to live. She had played God. She had set a man's fate. To know that she was the cause of a man's death gave her a frightening sense of power. This power Tabby condemned.

Tabby felt as if she had gained a second wind. Where she was tired and cold before, she was now hot and very much alive. In a way, she blessed her tears for heating her up. At least now, as she walked down the street beside Connor, she didn't feel like she was going to freeze to death.

Tabby felt in a daze. A pleasant one, as she had been sure to lock up the memory of the man she killed to deal with at another time. She only had to get that damned doll and go home so she could finally get some sleep. Tabby very well knew that sleep on Christmas Eve is precious; in the Trayson household, it's not uncommon for large groups of relatives and self-proclaimed friends to make their ways to the house for the Christmas celebration. Of course, this also meant that Millie, Tabby, Tom, and often times most the farmhands were forced to babysit the children of cousins and neighbors while their parents went out to drink and dance.

The two arrived at the shop that had thrown Tabby out. "Really, Connor, they won't serve me-"

He seemed to not take no for an answer. "Let's go." Frowning, Tabby followed him to the door.

Connor swung it open and strolled in, not offering the men a glance. As Tabby walked in, however, the same man from before intercepted the couple. "Look man, I already told the nigger she can't-"

Tabby didn't even see Connor move until he had the man pressed against the wall. Connor's blade was pressed to the man's throat. Tabby's eyes grew wide. "You will let her shop here."

"You're the boss, man. She can buy whatever she wants, okay?" The man cried, panicked. Tabby risked a glance to the shopkeeper. He looked disinterested, as if his friend's death made no difference. Connor didn't let up immediately, continuing to glare at the man. The man looked terrified out of his wit. Slowly, as if he really didn't want to, Connor dropped him and turned back to Tabby.

Swallowing in an attempt to cure her dry throat, Tabby turned and grabbed a doll off the shelf. "This one's good," she said quietly. The room was dead silent, tension hanging thick. She slowly made her way to the man behind the counter.

The man gave her a friendly grin. "Half off for you, honey," he said, winking at her. Tabby was startled and felt heat creep up her neck. "Don't mind that kid over there. He still thinks he's the best this world has to offer."

"I sure hope he's wrong," Tabby said, smiling politely as she handed over the money.

"Oh, he is. I'm the best." That earned a surprised laugh from her.

"Take care, sir."

"You too," he bid her. "Come back any time. As long as my brother's not here, I guess."

Connor waited by the door for her, his eyes not leaving the man. As she passed him, Tabby grabbed his arm roughly and pulled him out. God forbid he start another fight.

"Sorry about that," Tabby quickly apologized as they began to walk back to the farm. "I didn't think you'd be forced to do that."

"Don't apologize for him."

Tabby didn't. A few more paces, and she turned her head to assess Connor's features. He stared straight ahead, determined to get her home. "Thanks for what you did back there," Tabby said, beaming. "You didn't have to help me."

"I did."

Tabby stopped talking. He didn't seem like much a conversationalist. Instead, she just examined him.

He was handsome, there was no doubt in her mind about that. However, looks mean nothing nowadays. Tabby was deceived before, and will never let it happen again. Connor is a very dangerous man, she knew. She was lucky to have him on her side. Or, at least, he seemed on her side for now. She really knew nothing about him other than his first name and that he kills men like they're flies.

And, of course, that he just defended her from that racist bastard in the store back there. Tabby hoped he really was a good soul, and that wasn't just a one-time thing. "You don't have to walk me home," Tabby told him suddenly, surprising even herself. She clutched the doll to her chest. It was pretty and handmade; it wore a light blue dress and had dark golden curls cascading onto its shoulders. Its painted eyes matched the color of its dress. "I'm not messed up no more about that whole thing back there. Besides, I know the way."

"Either way, I'm taking you home," Connor told her, a sense of finality in his voice. Tabby shut up after that.

Tabby wondered how long she had been out. She hoped nobody had noticed her absence yet; that would be disastrous.

They arrived to the farm in record time. Tabby didn't know whether it was the speed their pace had taken up or the comfortable presence that had caused the time to fly by. She stopped Connor at the edge of the property and turned to him. "I don't want anyone thinkin' you're trespassing. I'm fine from here," she assured him quickly. "Take care, Connor."

Connor gave her a simple nod and began to turn to walk away. Frowning, Tabby realized something. "Tabby," she called after him. He stopped and looked at her, confused.

"What?"

"My name's Tabby. I figured you forgot. Goodnight, Connor. At this rate, I'll see you next week."

Tabby turned around and walked back to the barn, a wide smile on her face.

**Welp, there you go! I would reaaally appreciate some reviews on this one! Please! Even if you're just going to say "this is the worst story ive ever read are you high or just straight up mental". Well, maybe not that. But I really appreciate anything you have to say! It might make me update faster, if you're one of the few who like this story ;) Now, forgive this entire chapter. It's late. I might not get the next chapter out as fast as I've been getting the rest of this story out; school starts back up in 3 days, and I don't think I can properly write this story when all I can think of is Robespierre and Marxism and Voltaire, but I'll try. Thanks for sticking around! Review, review, review :)**

** Happy New Year! Enjoy your 2014 :)**


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